


anywhere else is hollow

by meglimeg



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meglimeg/pseuds/meglimeg
Summary: Poe is 39 when he finds his first grey hair. It stands out in stark contrast to the thick, dark curls that sit on top of his head, and he stares at it in the mirror in the fresher for a full minute before sighing, grabbing a pair of tweezers, and pulling it out with a defiant finality. Grey hair means getting old. Poe isn’t getting old.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	anywhere else is hollow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [these photos](https://twitter.com/archiveoscar/status/1207717877530472454) of a gloriously grey Oscar Isaac sat with John Boyega, and I was suddenly struck with the idea for a Poe who's really insecure about being older than Finn, but doesn't want to let him know.
> 
> Full disclosure, as much as Finn and Poe are running my life right now, I'm not the world's biggest Star Wars fan, and most of what I know I know only from fics - if I have any glaring mistakes please let me know and I'll correct them! I tried to stay as true to the characters as I could, and I'm sorry if I got them wrong at any point. I'm still also very very British, so my spelling will also be British, just fair-warning
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift's 'Willow', because of course it is

Poe is 39 when he finds his first grey hair. It stands out in stark contrast to the thick, dark curls that sit on top of his head, and he stares at it in the mirror in the fresher for a full minute before sighing, grabbing a pair of tweezers, and pulling it out with a defiant finality. Grey hair means getting old. Poe isn’t getting old.

He looks down at it in the basin, and it’s like it’s mocking him; it’s longer than it has any right to be, and Poe has no idea how he hadn’t noticed it before. How long had it been in his hair, there in plain sight for everyone to see? Had Finn noticed it, grimaced, ignored it, pretended it didn’t exist, looked away? Had he mentioned it to Rey, disgusted, and they discussed options, next steps, the possibility of Finn moving on? Had Jessika or Snap seen it, snickered, mentioned it when his back was turned? Was it a running joke among the trainee pilots? _Oh, you have Dameron? Be careful with that dinosaur, he’s getting old._

Even as he’s thinking it, he knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows that his students and colleagues respect him and that one grey hair isn’t going to change that. He knows Rey is good and kind, and cares about him, and that she values him as a friend as much as she does Finn. And he knows Finn loves him, knows they're a forever kind of thing, and that growing old together was the whole point.

But still. Finn hasn’t yet turned 30. He’s barely aged in the 6 years they’ve been together, and he’s a million miles away from going grey. They’re not exactly growing old together. Poe’s growing old while Finn stays young, and whilst, yes, he loves him now, who’s to say that Finn won’t find someone his own age soon? Someone who isn’t going grey before they’ve hit 40? Or shit, someone who isn’t nearly 40? Poe wouldn’t exactly blame him.

Kes Dameron had maintained his full head of thick black hair until he was in his 50s. Shara Bey never had a chance to go grey, but she sure wasn’t grey at 39. It’s some kind of cruel joke.

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and it jolts Poe back to the present, and back to his reflection.

“Poe? You okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

It’s Finn, of course, ever-present and always concerned, and Poe steels himself, giving his reflection one last once-over for grey hairs, before turning to the door and opening it, grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry!” he says to Finn’s worried expression, switching off the light as he leaves the fresher and scooting past him to grab his jacket. “Got distracted.”

He’s obviously done a bad job of fooling him, because instead of replying with some comment about Poe falling in love with the mirror, Fin closes a hand around his wrist and says, “What’s wrong?”

Poe swallows once, and looks straight at Finn, holding onto his fake smile. There’s no point pretending there’s nothing wrong, because Finn _knows_ him. “Feeling a little under the weather is all. Nothing to worry about.” He leans in to press a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek, and pulls his hand out of his grip. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

They’re not, and it’s nowhere near enough to throw Finn off, but he can apparently sense a losing battle, because he sighs, and nods, and says, “Sure.” He falls into step beside Poe as they head to the door. “You’ll tell me later, right?”

Poe pauses just before the exit. “I promise, if there’s anything worth telling, you’ll be the first to know.”

It doesn’t stop Finn sneaking worried glances at him throughout the rest of the day, or hovering protectively near him at every available chance, or pressing extra close to him in bed that night, but it stops him from asking, and gives Poe more of a chance to wrap his head around how possible it is that Finn will find someone else. Poe clings on a little tighter that night, as well.

____________________________________________________________

They’re watching a vid, and it’s not late, but it’s been a long day at the end of a long week, and Poe’s had to work what feels like three thousand hours this month alone, and the thing about Finn, is that for all that he’s muscular and strong and an absolute force of nature in battle, he makes the absolute best pillow.

He’s managed to put the grey hair to the back of his mind the last few weeks. No one’s mentioned it, not even to make fun of him, so he’s optimistically assuming that nobody noticed. That he’s managed to sneak this one past everyone. Finn hasn’t mentioned that day either, and as if by silent, mutual agreement, it seems they’ve both decided to pretend that nothing’s happened, and everything’s fine.

So as the vid plays on (some obscure story from a hundred years ago that Poe’s never seen but doesn’t care about at all), he curls himself into Finn’s side, rests his head on his shoulder, and feels the comforting weight of Finn’s arm as it drapes around his shoulders. He only means to let his eyes fall closed for a second, but Finn is warm and familiar, and before he knows it, he’s fast asleep.

He wakes up as the rest of the gang start to move around them. Snap had been sat to his left, and when he stands the change in weight on the couch stirs him, his eyes opening blearily in the bright light of the room. The first face he sees is Rey’s, a half-smile on her face, and she says, “Did you enjoy the film then, Poe?”

Jessika snorts from behind her, and Poe lifts his head off Finn’s shoulder, still a little confused from sleep. “Huh?” he answers, eloquently.

Finn’s arm is still around him, and his hand squeezes his bicep affectionately, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“Should we start these nights sooner?” Jessika asks, smirking. “How about at 6 rather than 7? That way you can be in bed by sundown?”

Poe rolls his eyes and gives her the finger, and she laughs, along with Snap, who says, “Don’t worry old man, we can tell you the plot over breakfast tomorrow. Seniors’ special starts at 6.30, right?”

Rey and Jessika laugh along with Snap at that, and even as Poe feels himself stiffen instinctively, he can hear the soft rumble of Finn’s low chuckle next to him. It’s like all those weeks of calming down, of convincing himself it’s _just a hair, get a grip,_ of finding relief in Finn’s arms, have been for nothing. Because here, in plain view, are all of his closest friends, noticing him getting old, and laughing at him for it. Making fun of him for it.

Back in the day, not even that many years ago, Poe could stay awake through anything. Years of fighting battles had trained him of that. But since meeting Finn, since defeating the First Order, since _getting older,_ Poe has been slowing down. And he has been falling asleep sooner, and struggling to stay awake, and he has been getting up earlier. And everyone’s _noticed,_ and everyone’s _laughing._

He doesn’t get the chance to reply, because Finn’s shifting beside him and standing up, reaching out a hand and saying, “C’mon sleeping beauty. Time for bed.”

And Poe has never in his life said no to Finn’s outstretched hand, and he’s not going to start tonight. Not when his chances to hold Finn’s hand might be counting down to zero. He lets himself be pulled to standing, and he and Finn bid goodbye to the others, before heading back to their quarters.

They get ready for bed stood side-by-side, brushing their teeth and washing their faces, and Poe tries to covertly check for grey hairs in the mirror, whenever Finn’s gaze drifts. He’s seen a few which he’s pulled out immediately, in recent weeks. None tonight, thank the Force.

When they fall into bed, Poe thinks about how he’d sometimes spend his Benduday nights when he was 29 – drinking, partying, dancing, staying up to watch the dawn. He wonders, as they pull the blankets over themselves, and as Finn slots a leg between Poe’s, if Finn would want to be doing those things. If Poe’s pulling him down, making him old before his time, making him have vid nights and early nights. He wonders if there’s a small part of Finn that resents him, even if ever so slightly.

But it’s worse than that, isn’t it? Because Finn never got to be any kind of young. He went straight from the First Order to quiet nights in and sleeping hours away, and maybe Poe’s not just stealing his youth, but stealing it before Finn got the chance to even know what youth is meant to be.

He knows what Finn would say if he brought this up to him; he’s being silly, Finn’s _happy,_ why would he want to be anywhere else? But ignorance is bliss, and if Finn knew what he was missing, would he be so happy with how things are?

The evening has been another kick in the teeth, another stark reminder that he’s nearly ten years older than Finn, and that Finn is still young and vibrant in all the ways that Poe is getting old and dull.

He still tucks in close to Finn, though, and he has to admit that he does feel a little better when Finn nuzzles into the junction between his neck and shoulder. His heart does jump a little as they start to drift off. He’s only human, after all.

____________________________________________________________

He’s sparring with Rey when it happens, a routine training exercise that he’s done a thousand times before, except this time Poe twists slightly differently, and apparently that’s enough for him to be gritting his teeth with pain and calling a quick time out.

Rey steps back immediately, the automatic smirk on her face falling away as she sees Poe wince and walk stiffly and awkwardly to the bench by the side of the training room. “Poe?” she says, following him to his seat. “Did I hurt you?”

And wouldn’t that be nice? Poe thinks, bitterly. Wouldn’t it be nice if Rey had whacked him and injured him, instead of his own body seizing up on him and causing him agony. He shakes his head, placing his hand on his lower back, pressing his fingers into the pained muscle there. “No, no, sorry. Just got a little out of shape, is all.” He gives her a quick smile. “Rain check?”

“Do you need to go to the Medbay?” She touches her fingers lightly to where his hand is pressed, and he winces and pulls away.

“Nope! No, just think I need to get some rest.” He stands, waving away Rey’s hovering hands. “I’m okay.”

“Shall I get Finn?”

“No!” he says, a little too quickly and with a little too much panic, and he starts making his way to the door. “No, no, don’t bother him.” Finn is off with some of the trainee pilots, making merry and being young, _for once,_ and Poe isn’t going to interrupt that with his old-man injuries.

He throws Rey a goodbye wave and makes it back to his quarters as quickly as his back will allow him, and when he gets there, he swallows down some pain medicine and collapses into bed, only managing to kick off his boots and turn off the light before closing his eyes. He’s not tired, even though it’s gone 10, but he needs to rest his back, and sleeping is the best way of doing that.

It should be hours later that Finn comes in, opening the door and spilling faint light into the room, because his party should be running into the small hours, but it feels like it’s less than ten minutes. Poe keeps his eyes closed as he hears him move quietly about the room, and then the bed is dipping beside him, and he feels Finn’s familiar presence curve around him. Finn’s lips press softly against his nape, and he presses back instinctively, feeling their shapes mould together, and then one of Finn’s hands slips in between them, and instantly finds the spot that Poe had twisted and injured earlier. He rubs his fingers into the sore spot, massaging gently but insistently, and it immediately feels one hundred times better than it had done. Poe’s always said that Finn has magic hands, but it really is true. A few moments of strong pressing and Poe can feel the tension begin to seep away.

He knows it won’t magically fix the injury. Poe’ll have to lay low for a few days, take it easy, alternate ice and heat, but this instant relief is certainly going to make the healing process a lot easier.

As Finn digs in to a particularly sore spot, Poe lets out a groan of relief, and he can feel Finn’s smile behind him. “There you go,” he says, pressing a couple more times, and then pulling away.

Poe rolls onto his back to face Finn, any pretence of sleep gone. He hadn’t wanted Finn to see him like this – injured by age and his failing muscles, bested by someone younger and faster than him, bested by his own body – but Finn has always been able to tell when he’s asleep and when he’s awake, and the jig is well and truly up now.

Finn is propped up on one elbow, looking down at Poe with concern. “If it hurts this bad you should see Dr Kalonia,” he says, lifting his hand to play with the curls falling around Poe’s forehead.

Poe shakes his head. “I’m fine. And how did you know?”

Finn shrugs, leaning down slightly, pressing a kiss to Poe’s temple. “Rey swung by Ido’s and found me, said you’d been hurt and were being an idiot about it.” He kisses his head again. “Apparently she was right.”

Poe sighs, accepts Finn’s kisses, and says, “You didn’t leave Ido’s early did you?”

Even in the dark, he can see Finn furrow his brow. “Yeah? Why?”

Poe angles his face away from Finn’s slightly. “I just didn’t want to interrupt your fun tonight.”

Finn presses even closer into Poe’s side, lowering himself entirely onto the bed, and bringing his mouth to Poe’s neck. His hand comes up to rest on Poe’s chest, rubbing gently, before skating down over his torso and lower still, lips and tongue still hot on Poe’s skin, and he whispers against him, “I’d rather be having some fun with you.”

And it’s not the point Poe was trying to make, not at all, but then Finn’s fiddling with his belt, and for the rest of the evening, even his insecurities about his age aren’t enough to stop him clinging closer to Finn, rolling into him, wincing only slightly, returning all his favours with fervour.

An hour later and Poe is laying on his front, naked, and Finn is straddling his thighs, fingers working their magic with his injured back; and it’s embarrassing, sure, to rely on Finn to look after him when his age lets him down, but then, also? It feels really good too.

____________________________________________________________

It’s three weeks later, and they’re sorting through some of Poe’s old things that had been stored out in an empty cupboard near the hangar. It’s the kind of job that Poe’s been putting off forever, and he would have continued putting it off if it weren’t for Finn, and his determination to keep everything in their life in order. It’s why Poe’s sock drawer has been arranged by colour for the last four years.

Snap had mentioned the cupboard in passing as they’d been eating dinner a few nights ago, and Finn’s head had turned sharply to Poe. “Seriously? There’s _more_ mess you’re hiding from me?” His tone had been exasperated but his eyes were teasing, and Poe was so, so in love.

He’d rolled his eyes, and said, “It’s not messy, it’s just… there. It’s fine staying there.”

Finn had shaken his head. “Nope, nope, we’re clearing that up. Where’s the cupboard, Snap?”

Which is how they’ve wound up here, six boxes with various contents scattered around them on the floor of their quarters, and they’re unceremoniously sorting things into ‘throw’ and ‘keep’ piles. The ‘throw’ pile is much larger than the ‘keep’ pile, because Poe’s not particularly sentimental, and Finn somehow knows what Poe will and won’t want to keep without having to ask.

And then Finn’s gasping, and Poe jerks his head to look across to him. “What? You okay?” Finn stands, makes his way over to where Poe is sitting and drops down beside him, holding carefully onto a small piece of paper. His eyes are gleaming.

“I just found the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shows the paper to Poe with a flourish, face nearly split in two with his grin. “Recognise this handsome young man?”

Poe stills, reaches out to take the photograph from Finn’s hand. It’s Poe from when he was, maybe 21, 22? It’s his official portrait from when he joined the New Republic, and yeah, jeez, he looks so young. His face is unlined, his hair flawlessly coiffed, his build more slender, and he feels himself go cold at how different he knows he looks now. It’s not just that he’s broader, greyer, more wrinkled, but he’s also softer round the middle; even hours of physical activity every day haven’t been able to maintain the kind of muscles he had when he was young.

He hasn’t seen this photo in years, and he glances at Finn, who’s looking down at it with such soft fondness, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“How old are you here?” he asks, tucking in closer to Poe, resting his head on his shoulder.

Poe swallows. “21, I think. Just after I joined up.”

Finn hums contentedly, taking the photo back from him. “Damn, but weren’t you handsome?”

Poe snorts, goes for light-hearted, says, “Yeah, what happened?”

Finn doesn’t answer, seems all of a sudden lost in thought, and then he’s murmuring, “Wish I could’ve known you back then.”

Poe doesn’t say what he’s thinking, that 18 years ago Finn would only have been 11, because he doesn’t want to draw attention to what Finn’s no doubt already thinking, that they’re nearly a decade apart and worlds apart. Instead, he wraps his arm around Finn’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He presses his nose into the top of Finn’s head and inhales, enjoying the stillness of the moment. He’s suddenly terrified, in the moment, that this is what will make Finn realise he should leave. Confronted with a young Poe, a Poe that’s so different from the one he knows, he’s going to realise that Poe’s old and getting older all the time, and that he can go and find his own young pilot who’s still got it all ahead of him, who’s not got wrinkles or grey hairs or aching muscles.

He holds on a little tighter.

Finn seems to notice the tension in Poe’s arm, and he lifts his head, lifts a hand, pulls Poe’s chin so they’re eye to eye, breath mingling in the inches between them. Finn’s eyes are questioning, searching, and Poe doesn’t know whether he finds what he’s looking for, but he leans in, presses his lips to Poe’s, briefly.

He pulls back slightly, rests their foreheads together, slides his hand up to cup Poe’s cheek. “I love you,” he murmurs, eyes half-closed.

Poe’s chest tightens and then loosens. “I love you,” he replies.

It feels like it might be enough.

____________________________________________________________

There’s a new recruit called Silas, and whilst he doesn’t come close to how attractive Finn is, he’s still pretty damn good looking. He’s also fit, funny, clever, kind, and only 30 years old.

Poe is now 40.

They’d celebrated with a party that Poe hadn’t wanted even slightly, but Jessika had insisted, saying, “We so rarely get to celebrate anything! Poe, come on, it’ll be fun!”

It had been fun, to be fair, mostly because of how Finn had spent the entire night drunkenly pressed up against him, hands on his hips, lips on his cheek, dancing with him and whispering into his ear. They’d eaten good food and ended the night in bed with unhurried and lazy kisses (they’d spent the whole of Finn’s 30th doing the same, because somehow Finn was allowed to choose what he did for his birthday, where Poe wasn’t). It was a fun night, even if he wasn’t able to shake off the weight of being kriffing _forty._ Falling asleep next to Finn made it seem so unimportant.

Silas isn’t forty.

He and Finn have become good friends since he joined – they spar together, practice shooting together, sometimes go flying together – it’s what Poe’s wanted for Finn for ages, to be honest. A bigger social circle, more independence, more of a sense of self apart from his and Poe’s relationship. He should be thrilled.

Except. He can see how Silas can match Finn pace for pace in training exercises, where Poe’s been getting slower for months, if not years. He can see Silas’ thick blonde hair, the kind of blonde that won’t show grey even when it does eventually go. He can see Silas out with the other recruits, staying up late, dancing and drinking long after Poe has turned off his own lights. He can picture Silas and Finn as some kind of couple, however much the image tortures him.

He knows that Silas knows he and Finn are attached (it’s common knowledge throughout the galaxy at this point, that the rogue Stormtrooper had his heart stolen by the captured Resistance pilot), and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Finn would never do anything like cheat. But still.

The thought’s been bugging him for months. That maybe, just maybe, Finn would be better off with someone else. Someone who can equal him, someone who can challenge him, someone _his age._

They’re okay for the time being, but it won’t be long before people start looking at him and Finn and judging, looking at their age difference and treating them differently, looking at Poe like he’s a cradle-snatcher and looking at Finn as if he’s a gold-digger, and he just can’t stand the thought of putting Finn through more reasons why he has to stand out, why he has to be different. It wouldn’t be an issue with Silas.

It’s a thought that nags him, but he puts it to the back of his mind as he’s checking his hair for greys. They seem to be springing up more or less every day now, and it’s a chore keeping on top of them, but he’s started pulling them out after his shower, when Finn’s meeting with General Organa or Rey. This does mean, however, that he’s out of the habit of locking the door to the fresher as he does so, and on this particular morning, it swings open as he’s mid-pluck.

Poe freezes, unsure of what to do, eyes fixed on Finn in the mirror. Finn steps forward, wraps both arms around Poe’s bare torso, and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Hey, I forgot to say bye this morning.” He kisses Poe’s shoulder blade, then puts his chin back on his shoulder.

Poe reaches and presses his hand against Finn’s where it’s resting on his stomach, instinctively, and too late realises that he’s still got the tweezers in his hand. The cold makes Finn wince and glance down, and he says, “When did you start plucking your eyebrows?”

He’s saying it with amusement, but Poe shakes his head, steps out of Finn’s arms. “Not until recently. You should go, you’re going to be late.” He can’t meet Finn’s eyes as he drops the tweezers into the sink, walks back out into their room, reaches for his shirt and pulls it on hastily.

Finn follows him and catches his arm in his hand, pulling Poe round to face him, and then Poe’s confronted with all the worry he thinks he’s been storing up for months, except here it is, on Finn’s face instead of his own, and he feels like absolute shit for making Finn look like that.

Finn’s hand grips tight, and he says, “Poe, can you please tell me what’s going on?”

Poe shakes his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Finn steps closer, letting go of his arm, and says, “You’ve been off lately. I know you. Something’s wrong.”

“Finn-“

“Aren’t we supposed to tell each other everything? Isn’t that what we’ve always done?”

“Yes, of course, but –“

“Are you going to leave me?”

Poe feels his jaw drop and his eyes widen, because _wow_ has he fucked up if Finn thinks that’s even within the realms of possibility.

“No, _no,”_ he says, stepping forward again, trying to close the gap between them, holding onto both of Finn’s hands with his own. “Finn, _never,_ I swear.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Poe sighs, closing his eyes and stepping away, running his hand through his hair. “I’m – Finn. I –“

_Now or never, Dameron. Get it over with._

“I think it’ll be the other way round, actually.”

Finn’s face screws up in confusion. “What?”

Poe sighs again. “I’m getting old, Finn. I’m _forty.”_

Finn steps forward, still clearly confused. “Yeah? I remember. I helped organise the party. Is this news to you?”

Poe huffs, because is Finn really going to make him say this?

When Finn doesn’t say anything more, Poe just… lets it all fall out.

“I’m not fast anymore. I don’t look like I used to. I get injured easily now, I’m nearly a decade older than you, and I’ve been finding grey hairs for months. Finn,” he says, turning to face him properly. “I would never, in a million years, leave you. I’m worried that when you realise how old I am, _you’ll_ leave _me.”_

His outburst is met with silence, and when Poe thinks about how it all sounded, out in the open for the first time, he’s confronted with the fact that, yes, it’s kind of ridiculous. But insecurities never really make sense, do they?

Finn’s expression is unreadable. He’s quiet, watching Poe carefully, and then he’s moving closer, stepping impossibly close to him.

He lifts a hand and hooks his fingers around the curls falling over Poe’s ear. He’s silent for a moment longer, and Poe holds his breath. Eventually, Finn, fingers still playing with his hair, says, “Years.”

He presses a kiss to his cheek as Poe replies, elegantly as ever, “Huh?”

He looks intently then at one of Poe’s ringlets, zeroing in on a couple of strands, and says, “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve had grey hairs for years.” He plucks, pulling out a hair which he hovers in front of Poe’s face, and Poe can see the silver strand between Finn’s fingers. He lets it drop to the floor, and then cups the back of Poe’s neck. “You had grey hairs when we first kissed. Only a couple, true. But you had them.”

Poe makes a face, embarrassed, thinking back over the years he’s apparently been old without even realising it, and Finn sighs. “Is this what you’ve been worried about for so long? You think I’m going to leave you because you’ve got a few grey hairs?”

And okay, it sounds even more stupid when Finn puts it like that. But he’s been building this up in his head for months, an escalation of all the small ways that they’re slightly apart from one another. Finn’s hand is still on the back of his neck, and Poe’s own hands are feeling empty, so he lifts them to Finn’s hips. “I don’t want you to resent me because I stopped you having fun when you were young. I don’t want you to wake up in twenty years’ time and realise that you’ve wasted your life massaging my old bones.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure I made up my mind about how I wanted to spend my life six years ago. Remember?”

Poe nods. “I know. I know. I know it’s dumb.” He doesn’t mention Silas, doesn’t say that Finn has options if he does decide that Poe is too old for him, because he knows that Finn won’t like that. “But it’s true – you’ve got so much ahead of you and I don’t want to be dragging you down.”

Finn’s brow furrows with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?”

Poe ducks his head. “Getting old is embarrassing. You’re still young and – I didn’t want you to think any less of me.”

“You didn’t want me to think any less of you for… ageing?”

“Finn…”

“I’m sorry, Poe, but I distinctly remember making a promise to specifically _grow old with you._ Pretty sure I said those exact words.”

And he’s right, of course. The vows they made five years ago have been etched onto Poe’s heart, and he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to recite them when he’s 100, and everything else has been forgotten. They’d exchanged rings, held hands in front of everyone they knew, promised to stay together for as long as they lived, and to _grow old together._

“Do you think so little of me? That I would stop loving you for something so meaningless? Do you think a few grey hairs would change anything about who you are to me? That being a little slower than before would change everything we’ve been through together?” He steps in closer, moves his hands so they’re both pressing to the sides of Poe’s face. “Do you really think that a few lines on your face would mean you’re not the most beautiful person in the universe?”

Poe leans forward again, foreheads together again, and says, “Pretty sure that title belongs to you.” Finn huffs out a laugh. “I’ve been foolish,” Poe adds.

Finn nods. “Yeah.”

“I love you so much,” he says, and Finn nods.

“Yeah.” He ghosts their lips together gently. “Poe, if you’re old, it means you’re _alive._ Nothing else matters to me. The number of times I thought you’d – the number of times you’ve been flying and I haven’t heard from you, or we’ve had reports of recon gone wrong, and Poe – I love every new grey hair because it means you’re _here._ With _me._ Please don’t act like getting old is some kind of curse, because really? It’s the best thing that could ever happen.”

Poe had never thought about it like that, so caught up in the aesthetics of growing old that he couldn’t see how it might be a blessing. He thinks about how if their roles were reversed, and how much he’d love to see an older Finn, a Finn who’s lived long enough to be old, a Finn who’s won battles and battled injuries and always made it through, a Finn who’s still in the world.

And then they’re kissing again, and there’s a desperation this time, and Finn’s meeting is forgotten and Poe’s insecurities are – well, not forgotten, but…insignificant. They’re alive and they’re ageing and they’re growing, and they’re together. Poe marvels at it.

____________________________________________________________

A week later and they’re off-world, at some eatery on a distant planet, sat on the same side of the table, laughing and sharing food and trading kisses, and Poe wonders what he was ever worried about, that Finn could mean anything except joy, that their difference in age could ever mean anything when compared with how linked they are in every other way.

Finn leaves to use the fresher and while he’s gone the bill comes to the table, and Poe grabs Finn’s (his) jacket, because he’s got both their wallets. He reaches into the pocket and pulls out what he thinks is his, but when he flips it open, he realises it’s Finn’s. And he knows it’s Finn’s, because staring back at him is his own face. It’s the photo they found when they were cleaning out Poe’s things, and Finn’s apparently taken it, tucked it away, kept it in his wallet where he could see it anytime. Which is ridiculous, really, because when are they not together?

Poe smiles. Puts the wallet back and grabs his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I've marked this as complete because it is, but I'm already thinking about adding a second chapter from Finn's POV - so keep an eye out for that! I can't promise it'll come soon, but hopefully it'll come!
> 
> Kudos and comments give authors life, but then you're reading fanfiction on ao3, so you probably already know that
> 
> My tumblr is [slowunsteady](http://slowunsteady.tumblr.com) \- I'm not really on there much any more, but feel free to come say hi if you're so inclined!


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